


I know what Avgolemono Soup is

by lds



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Contains SGA Lemon Cliche, Humour, M/M, Slash, Unnamed USAF Officer as groom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-26
Updated: 2006-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lds/pseuds/lds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay = Bridezilla, just ask his wedding planner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know what Avgolemono Soup is

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a discussion on a ML where I either stated or back upped someone else who stated that Rodney McKay would be a complete "Bridezilla".
> 
> Beta'd by Kerensa.

A streak of yellow blazed across the blue sky, stopping abruptly on the back of the head of an elegantly dressed man holding a clipboard. Spinning around, he scanned the ground for the offending projectile and spotted a suspicious looking object to his right. On closer inspection he determined it was a lemon shaped stress ball that had clearly failed at its one reason to exist. Individuals with reduced stress generally do not throw items across patios. The man frowned as he picked up the innocent looking lemon, it had dawned on him who was the most likely candidate to launch such a thing in his direction. This was not going to be a good day.

He glanced up at the glowering man now standing in front of him. “Good day, Dr. McKay.”

“Mr Villaman,” was the cold reply.

Kristophe Villaman sighed to himself. If he had known he would be meeting the likes of Rodney McKay when choosing a career as a wedding coordinator he might have listened to his father and followed him into the world of plumbing instead. The man was giving new meaning to the term, “Bridezilla”. Kristophe had assigned the bride role to the scientist on meeting the couple. Though at the time it had more to do with Air Force blues equalling groom in Kristophe's mind.

Taking a deep breath and he reminded himself of the huge opportunity this same-sex marriage represented, one of the first high profile events since the dropping Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Kristophe braced himself and asked, “Is there a problem?”

Rodney grumped, “Is there a problem? It's probably easier to discuss what isn't going wrong with this little soirée you are putting together then to review the current problems. Seriously, how hard can it be to pull off a wedding and reception when it's allegedly your actual profession? And I assure you I am using that term loosely when it comes to you. My entire staff is starting to appear competent in comparison to yours.”

Kristophe squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten before asking, “Is there a particular problem you wished to draw attention to by tossing this odd little object. And isn't this a little unusual for you have anyway.” He waved the lemon shaped stress ball in front of the doctor. “It does, after all, resemble something deadly to you.”

“My husband-to-be has a twisted sense of humour.” Rodney snatched the offending stress ball from Kristophe's grasp. “It is comforting to know that you remember that little fact about me. Do you think you can beat it into the heads of your staff? Or are all of you part of some inane plot to have me killed during the reception as punishment for my iniquitous choice. In which case, you could at least incorporate the death into the dessert instead of the appetizer so I can get a good meal before I go.”

Rodney jammed the latest revision of the reception menu under Kristophe's nose, pointing at the offending entry. Kristophe pushed it back a little, attempting to bring the actual text into focus.

“Ah, I see the caterers took the idea of making a more international fare as an excuse to add avgolemono soup.” Kristophe sighed. “I will remind them of the ban on all things citrus.”

“Are you sure they even know what citrus is?” demanded Rodney. “Because I have yet to see a version of this menu where they haven't snuck in something deadly. A review of the definition of allergies could be in order. Maybe we should both be involved.” The “we” in reference to his absent fiancé and himself.

A vision of the last formal talks between the caterers and the couple passed before Kristophe's eyes. He was lucky he still had caterers since the groom decided to show his support by enthusiastically cleaning his government issued weapons during a review of menu ideas. He called it multi-tasking while the caterers seem to view it as a threat.

“Let's not involve him,” Kristophe suggested. “At least not yet. I am sure it's just a matter of changes taking place with the service we are using. The final menu will be perfectly safe for your consumption.” He decided it was the wisest course of action not to mention that changes were due to the inability to handle the man standing in front of him.

Rodney nodded, preparing to move on to the next offending item on the menu list. He decided to cover them in detail now and allow the coordinator to handle it in an efficient manner rather than in the willy-nilly fashion that he could only presume had been taken to date.

“I don’t know if you noticed, and I am giving you the benefit of doubt here and assuming you didn’t, but the punch…” Rodney stopped to take in a deep breath. “The punch would appear to have some rather suspicious ingredients as well. Are you one hundred percent sure they are using citrus free soft drinks? Because there are quite a few on the market these days that insist on using real juice as part of their flavouring. Big advertising gimmick to make them sound healthier. And of course the idiot general public is just stupid enough to probably fall for it.”

“Dr. McKay, let me remind you that we went with a berry based punch to avoid citrus so of course the beverages in it will not contain any.” Kristophe once again resorted to pinching his nose to stave off the oncoming headache.

“We also agreed not to have any citrus based juices in the beverage selection, going instead with a better safe than sorry attitude.” Rodney wildly gestured toward the listings of drinks on the menu. ”And yet there are some offending choices on this menu. Did you not consult my list of approved juices? You know the one that identifies pretty much all non-citrus fruits known to man. Plus what is it with including champagne and orange juice. Is this a classy wedding reception or a tacky brunch?”

“It is not necessarily tacky to serve champagne and orange juice,” retorted Kristophe.

Rodney opened his mouth to continue when his cell phone rang. A more welcomed sound did not exist as far as Kristophe was concerned. He was already behind schedule and he did not need to be waylaid by one of the grooms even if technically it was this man's big day he was planning.

When he got off the phone, Rodney turned to the coordinator. “I have to go to a meeting, but do not think you are getting off this easy. I still have several issues I need to discuss with you.”

Kristophe took advantage of the reprieve to track down the appropriate government officials to get the reception staff much needed security clearance. He was not exactly sure when this latest duty fell under the heading of wedding coordinator, but for these particular nuptials, the role appeared to be under constant revision, much like the menu.

* * *

Later that evening, one Doctor Rodney McKay entered the hotel room he was sharing with his fiancé before their nuptials to be held on Earth. Excuses about having it on Atlantis being much too big a security headache or some such nonsense had been offered up by the military bigwigs. Exhausted from both meetings and arguments with the wedding coordinator, Rodney collapsed on the bed still fully clothed.

“Did you get the menu straightened out?” The voice made Rodney jump, he had not even noticed he was not alone in the room.

“Yes.”

“So no more lethal items being served?”

“No. The final menu is allergy free, at least for the wedding party,” Rodney smirked. “All other guests are on their own.”

“So, I don't have to be menacingly cleaning my guns during our little tête-à-têtes with the wedding people?”

“I don't know...” the scientist scrunched his face up a little as he stared at the ceiling. “I am starting to think the florists are out to get me.”


End file.
